Like Brother And Sister
by Gigaswoo
Summary: What if Debra never died? What if the Brain Surgeon was sucsessfully apprehended? Set beyond an alternate Season 8.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

I slowly approached my _fucking_ brother's apartment building with intent focused on closure. Sure I guess I was acting out of anger but fuck if I still loved him. I just saw him kill a guy, well a fucking lunatic to be specific in a church like some kind of ritual sacrifice like in the horror movies I watch as he was laid out on an altar with my brother looming over him looking way too prepared for it to have been self-defence.

I knew the moment he tried to explain himself it was murder, but I was too emotional to have come to a decision I would be satisfied with so I was logical and at the same time if it were possible probably stupid enough to help him cover it up. Now here I am in this fateful night, hoping that he only did that the once (Like fuck it was.) and partly hoping that if there were others they were like Travis Marshall, or worse.

Silently making my way up the steps to the familiar door, I quickly looked behind me in both directions before kneeling down and pulling out a hairpin. Thank fuck for my rebellious past curfew and burglary days. In an experienced amount of time I unlocked heard the familiar click and gently opened the door. Fuck leaving evidence in breaking and entering, I was going to confront my brother when he gets here if I find anything.

It was dark so I turned on the light to be met with his "Office" as I mentally called it. Nothing was out of place, typical for him. But his orderly and neat freak behaviour was slowly making sense. Think like my brother, where would I hide evidence if I was planning to kill someone?

I was saved a thorough search when I saw something very familiar. Something that sent shivers down my spine at the thing resting on top of the fridge. The Ice Truck Killer's prosthetic arm. _What the hell is Dexter doing with that thing?_ I slowly approached the thing while quietly closing the door behind me. As it grew larger in perspective I tried to suppress the memories of Brian coming back to haunt me not that it'd be the first damn time.

I carefully reached out to grab the unnatural limb with the colourful and unusual nail polish. Holding it in my hands, which felt fuckin creepy by the way, I peered around the room in search for something. Anything more than this, my eye caught the air conditioning unit. The light illuminated the outline of a shape resembling a small box in shadow. Who the fuck keeps a box in there? Oh yeah my brother.

Placing the arm on the couch I slowly walked to the unit. I used a quarter dollar coin to unscrew the bolts on the vent. I placed it down on the floor and reached in to get it, in the process I felt a soft fabric that seemed to conceal several pointed objects. They felt familiar much to my dread. Grabbing the fabric first I quickly pulled it out with soft thuds hitting the ground, the thing had unwrapped itself, letting a collection of knives in varying size and a couple of syringes fall.

I swallowed a gulp and reached for the box next with increasing clarity. I carefully retrieved the wooden object and hesitantly opened it, half expecting to find a finger or an eyeball or even a dick or something. Instead I got worse, a rack of slides that seemed to contain blood. I never bothered counting, I didn't want to but it was somewhere in the high-end two digits.

Something came over me when I threw the box at the wall, I didn't care if I woke the neighbours all I could think about was _him_. Several of the slides broke into pieces and the box seemed to be intact. He was coming soon and I was going to be ready for him.

I collected the knives and the syringes, putting them back into the pouches on the fabric and took the arm while kneeling in front of the slides. Anytime soon he'll come back. I set up the "display" of Dexter's private life on the table with my gun on it. I thought he might trust me if I'm not outright aiming at him but if he tries anything…

Almost on cue I heard the door open with a key and there he was. Walking in with a look on his face as if he just had the most shocking moment of his life. Well it was probably one of them.

He dropped his bag in complete silence apart from anxious breathing. I stared at him, watching his every move. Gun on the table.

I guess it was time for the question I didn't need to ask.

"Did you kill all these people?"

Silence. I waited for his response. I can't believe I was being so fucking patient.

"I did."

"Are you a serial killer?"

Here comes the final nail in the coffin.

"Yes."

He took a deep breath in dismay that I discovered his secret. It didn't feel good as much as it should.

Disclaimer: I don't own Dexter. Only this story.


	2. Chapter 2: Turned Tables

_I almost couldn't believe this was fucking happening. My own serial killer brother letting me take Saxon in and not just killing him like he could have done so easily. While I would have liked to see that cocksucker get his, I guess this was the right way. The way that could give my conscience a little cleaning after Laguerta. Time to go in and take him in._

_I walked in to see something that reverted me back to all my years of training. It was moments like this, seeing Saxon reaching for Clayton's gun, that I prepared for with my life at stake. A soon as he spun around to fire I quickly drew my pistol at a speed fuelled by years of familiarity and a presence of pure desperation. Wasting no time at all I fired. _

_The bullet impacted his left side as he gripped it in shock and pain. He let out an agonized groan as he dropped to the floor with his hands desperately trying to stop the bleeding. The pistol he stole clattered on the floor while his white hands were being coated in red._

"_AHHH! GOD DAMNIT!" I couldn't help but let a small smirk cross my lips. He probably didn't just say that in the pain he was going through right now, he must've felt mighty pissed off his escape plan failed._

_I reached for my phone to call the paramedics after kicking the gun away from him to the other side of the room. He looked at me like he wanted to grab my leg in a last ditch effort to kill me but he also looked like he was aware I trained my pistol on him the whole time. Finger off trigger of course but he makes a move he wouldn't be fast enough._

"_Sorry asshole, but prepare to ride the lightning." He spits at me a he groans and eventually just sighs in defeat._

_After calling the medical services, I called Angel._

"_Angel? Yeah it's Saxon, no I'm ok but he's here with me now I need your help along with the rest of you. I'm at his apartment. Thanks."_

_I was going to miss my brother. But thank you Dexter._

_AU: Awfully short I know but I guess this chapter doesn't need much more considering the situation._


	3. Chapter 3: Drinking and Reminiscing

_3 Weeks Later_

"BRAIN SURGEON KILLER AWAITS EXECUTION DATE."

The Miami Tribune confirmed (Apparently) that Oliver Saxon received a confirmed execution date at 20th November 2016. _Two fuckin years,_ and knowing them they'll probably delay it and delay it again and maybe some more, assholes.

I was lounging at the beach minding my own business when I hear a voice that… quite fuckin frankly I wasn't in the mood to here right now.

"Hey Deb!" I looked up to see the familiar Hispanic wearing nothing but shorts. He must've been swimming considering how wet he was, I just hope my newspaper doesn't get ruined so I folded it and placed it on the bar counter.

"Hi Angel how the fuck are you?" He laughed as he sat on an unoccupied stool next to me. He ordered a drink while I kept thinking about the grin Saxon is probably having right now, Dexter, Harrison and Hannah.

Hannah… Dex must be as fucking crazy as her to fly away to Argentina with her and Harrison. What if that psycho, poisoning bitch is thinking of offing another family member and husband? What if she already has?

"Debra? Are you alright?" I was woken up from my thoughts by the Hispanic as I look at him and gently nod my head. He sighed as he took a gulp from his glass, he seemed to lose his previous jovial demeanour. Maybe he was just as fucking depressed as I fucking was.

"If it's about Dex I understand… Argentina? Why didn't he tell us?" He knew that I knew Dexter planned to leave. When he asked why… well I left out the part about the wanted fugitive and told him he just needed time away from the hell-hole of a city we live in that seems to breed killers.

Angel seemed shocked when I told him. "But he seemed to be the least sensitive of us. He seriously felt like that?" Of course he didn't but I couldn't tell him the truth. Other than if I did I'd be admitting to withholding information and possibly considered as an accomplice and another reason is because with the firm I have enough crap on my plate. I don't need to turn that into diarrhoea shit.

"Well why else did he keep himself to himself? He didn't want to lose control and cry on your shoulder about everything he sees." I knew I was making him out to be a pussy. But fuck it I'm pissed off with him right now.

Angel spluttered and he giggled as if he heard a really fucking funny joke. Comet to think of it my brother crying on someone's shoulder complaining about "the evils of Miami" was pretty funny. "Ah same old Debra. Except you never used to make fun of your brother so much. I guess you're really angry at him?"

I looked at Angel probably not realizing I had "The glare." As he pulled back a little with intimidation. "You're da wasn't in the mood to hereeor serial killer in Miami I' in a typical day in Miami raged on behind us. tory glass bump.

t mn right Angel, how the fuck could he just leave me alone? He took fucking Harrison with him too! Who do I have apart from my dickweed of a boss!?"

Angel looked at me with confusion and just shrugged. "Sorry I asked." I looked around to see a handful of people quickly turning away when I looked in their direction. Hope they enjoyed the fucking show.

"Ahem. Um miss?" I looked to see the bartender cleaning a glass as he looked at me with a stern look. "Profanity isn't banned but try to keep it to a minimum please?" I picked up the rum glass I almost forgot about and drank the last of it muttering a "Sorry." Angel tried to shake off the awkward atmosphere by asking me about my workplace. Not the most ideal of topics but hey anything's better than my brother right now.

"So how's the firm. Anything like the department which I doubt?" I ordered another drink, the bartender seemed reluctant to get me another glass but he did anyway. I don't very much like passive people.

"Oh yeah pretty much except everyone's either an asshole, a jaded ex-cop with nothing to lose bullshit or people who I don't really talk to. You know the ones you drift from only having single to five worded conversations?"

Angel chuckles as he takes another gulp. He wipes his mouth and looks at me seriously now. "You know I may be Lieutenant but if you ever want to come back. You're always welcome."

Fuck no. I didn't want any reminder of Dexter. I sold off his apartment and that damn boat of his to some guy who works as a boat engineer. Good for him, I hope he enjoys the possible candidates for the serial killer, forensic and haunted documentaries. He seemed intent on staying with Hannah so I doubt he'll be wanting them back all of a sudden.

Also Quinn. That' a face I don't want to see again. The first time we had sex in a year he calls me "Jamie" I don't care if he was drunk on his own orgasm I cut him off quickly after that. Angel asked me what happened and to save him the seeping fury I told him that Quinn felt I lied when I told him I loved him and broke it off. He believed me and Quinn went along with it to save himself the embarrassment.

I only got a few texts from Quinn telling me he was sorry. At first I responded to them in my own colourful way but at the last two I calmed down by then and just told him it's over between us. He hasn't paid me a visit but at some point he'll probably gather the courage.

So on that I gave him my answer. "Thanks but I've been there for how many years? I'm not a major fan of familiarity as it turns out and I want to see where the firm takes me." He sighed in defeat as he raises his glass with a smile and drinks before setting it down again. "If you feel its right Debra, I won't stop you." I smiled at his understanding and drank from my glass. He seemed a little tipsy when he lazily raised his with intent to perform a celebratory glass bump.

"A los nuevos tiempos." Oh great he was being multi-lingual again.

"Sorry what?" He smiled again as he rose it a little higher. "To new times." I shrugged as I clinked my glass with him. "Uh yeah sure to new times." We drank together while the background noise of a vibrant beach in a typical day in Miami raged on behind us. I hope there was something about the new days to celebrate about. If there's going to be another fucking major serial killer in Miami I'll nail his fucking ass.


End file.
